The Necromancer’s Reunion
By
Mortimer Jackson
Smashwords Edition
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Copyright 2011 The Morning Dread
Smashwords Edition
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The Necromancer’s Reunion
Chapter 1
Out With The Old, In With The New
It was a Saturday morning when Sebastian Grimm found himself on the front door of Dina Malloy's two floor address. A bright and sunny Saturday morning. The kind he had long grown accustoming to spending alone reading the morning paper, attempting crosswords while occasionally examining the poorly written comic strips that populated the following page.
On the day of this tale however, things were different. Sebastian was almost forty miles away from his funeral home, clad in his finest beige suit, a box of chocolate in hand, and suffused with every intention of changing his life for the better. So hopeful was the necromancer in fact, that throughout his hour long drive around traffic he'd done nothing but whistle the tune to Singing In The Rain.
It was only once he arrived at Dina's address and knocked on the front door that he felt any shift in his mood. He'd gone from joyous and merry, to joyous and merry but with butterflies bouncing about his gut. He devoted his remaining time alone to feeling suddenly conscious of his breath, and realizing that he didn't know what he would say once the door came open.
There were solutions to this, of course. First, Sebastian sprayed his entire mouth with mint enough times that he began to lose feeling in his tongue. Second, he prepared in his mind an introduction, and rehearsed it to himself until he was able to let it all out without a second's thought.
“Hi, my name is Sebastian Grimm. You probably remember me from a while ago. We used to be next door neighbors when we were kids.”
“Oh my god!” he imagined Dina would say. “Sebastian. It's so great to see you. What are you doing here?”
And to this, Sebastian would find himself stumped. At a loss for words to explain the deduction behind the circumstances that brought him to where he was at that immediate moment. He thought it best not to spoil the mood with speak of near death experiences and bouts of loneliness. So in lieu, he imagined he would simply shrivel up and stare awkwardly while desperately trying to summon a reply.
“That will do,” he thought out loud. Only he knew that it wouldn't, and so off he set his brain to account for every foreseeable inquiry that might follow their imminent reunion.
This was when he noticed that the more time he spent thinking to himself, the less imminent their reunion seemed to be.
He knocked on the door and waited once again.
Nothing. Not so much as a verbal response, or the faint introduction of looming footsteps.
It was dead silent on the other side.
Sebastian’s first guess was an assumption that there was no one home. A blue sedan was parked on the driveway, but there was room enough for an additional vehicle. According to the detective John King, she didn’t share the house with anyone. Dina wasn’t married, and the two story house she was living in had been passed down to her from her grandparents by way of inheritance. By all accounts she lived alone and without a job, occasionally selling paintings from time to time to pass the time.
Dina was an artist by hobby. This Sebastian knew, both because the private investigator had told him so, and because he remembered it well from back in the days of their childhood.
Sebastian knocked the door once again. By now his knuckles were beginning to feel the light strain of his repeated tapping.
Once again, no response. Clearly, no one was there.
The necromancer sighed deeply, releasing microbes of hope and optimism from his lungs into the bright warm air. He decided he would come again another time, though when he didn’t know.
He left the chocolate by the door, along with a note that read From Sebastian. He was all set to leave when out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something rather conspicuous.
From the window of Dina Malloy’s home, past the fragment of glass that wasn’t covered by curtains, Sebastian noticed a book shelf on the floor. A heavy, cherry wood 25 x 10 book case with pages and books scattered all about, and a human arm buried underneath the furniture.
Being a funeral director and part time necromancer, Sebastian Grimm had seen this sort of thing many times before. But as he saw it now, he was hesitant to believe his very own eyes. Afraid, in fact. Afraid, and unwilling.
The front door was locked. Sebastian threw himself against the edge, ramming hard against the hinge until it finally gave way. He ran inside, past the living room into what appeared to be the study. Mustering every ounce of strength he had within his scrawny form, Sebastian clamped his hands against the bookshelf and pulled it free from whoever was lying underneath its weight. Once the shelf was tossed aside, Sebastian’s arms fell limp to his sides. And he panted like a raving dog. What’s more, he saw the corpse lying above the Persian carpet, and immediately recognized its face.
It was ten years past, but it was Dina Malloy as he remembered her. With long, shiny blonde hair, dark hazel eyes, and red freckled cheeks.
She was exactly the same as he’d remembered her. Except ten years older. And dead.
In the forty or so minutes it took for Sebastian Grimm to find himself where he was right now, he’d hoped to escape his lonely life of corpses and secrets for one that contained the slightest semblance of normalcy. But perhaps it is that in the lives of some, fate takes precedence over all.
If so, then it should follow that some things are destined never to change. In the case of Sebastian Grimm, where some go looking for a life, they may find only death.
Chapter 2
The Necromancer’s Surprise
Sebastian Grimm did not enjoy surprises. In his entire life it had followed that good things were never to come from unexpected truths. This had proven itself true when he was eight years old, learning first-hand of the secret affair that his father had kept for so long from his mother. And it had proven itself true on the night he first discovered his necromancer's tome. And today it had proven itself true once again, when he found the closest being he’d ever known to a friend, killed by her own book case.
Sebastian examined her body, noted the purple pressure marks around her limbs. They were fresh. And based on her color, hot pink and white, he placed the time of her death to somewhere along the lines of minutes. Certainly not more than half an hour.
It was with this that he mused to himself how different things would be had he arrived sooner. If he’d simply hurried his way in the morning, or better yet shown up last night. Perhaps the disaster before his eyes would not be if he had only been around to help.
There was only one recourse now. Though it was one that Sebastian Grimm had dreaded to consider. But as far as he could tell, he had no other choice. And so he went outside into his car, to grab his things.
As a man who did not enjoy surprises, Sebastian Grimm often stuck to the rule of preparedness. Expect the unexpected. Or at the very least, carry all tools that may come in handy under the event of death. It was for this precise reason that the necromancer carried all the tools of his undead trade under the trunk of his car. Chalk, pint of cow’s blood, candles, egg timer, and all. He also carried a spare battery for the car, and a five gallon gas canister filled to the brim, in the off-chance that he would ever find himself low on fuel, and without any avenues to refill. An event that has not and has yet to occur.
But I digress.
The necromancer brought the essential materials into the house, spending every moment in between doubting himself, and what he was about to do. He arranged the pieces in all the right places, grabbed a ladder from Dina’s garage, and scrawled in the Mark of Moor on the ceiling above her body. He was about to set the spell’s limit on the egg timer when he stopped, and found that he didn’t quite know how long to set it.
The average had always been under five minutes. But this was not an average circumstance. He was reuniting with the girl (now woman) he had known for so long. And the spell of Moor didn’t allow for second summonings. Once the egg timer rang, Dina would be gone forever. No other spell would ever be able to bring her back after the fact.
So what would it be then? Five minutes? Ten? The longest he could keep her alive would be sixty minutes. So according to the egg timer, and the guidelines of the spell of Moor.
But that was not what Sebastian had wanted either. He didn’t quite know what he had expected from his reunion with Dina Malloy, but whatever it was, it was more than sixty minutes long. Although apparently, this would not be the case.
Dina was dead. There would be no changing the fact. All that Sebastian could hope to do was prepare himself for their final moments together.
Sebastian was on the verge of casting the spell of Moor, when much to his surprise he detected sirens blaring in the distance. Police sirens, growing louder every second. He gazed out the window.
“No,” he gasped.
There were police vehicles lined outside the house. Two. And then three.
Before he could think or react, a swarm of men with pistols and badges barged through the door.
“Freeze!” yelled one.
“Get down!” came another.
“Drop the weapon!” barked a third.
Sebastian Grimm was at a loss over what to do. His heart raced, and due to the confusion brimming in his mind, he remained as he was, unsure of what to do. He froze just as he was told, though this seemed to contradict the second order. As for the third, he believed that certain clarifications were in order.
“It’s not a weapon. It’s an egg timer.”
“Get back, he’s got a bomb!”
“It’s not a bomb,” he added. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
But what did it look like, pray tell? And was that any better?
Sebastian didn’t have the time to think it through. The policemen shoved him hard against the ground, cuffed his wrists, and shoved him outside. He was thrown into the back seat of a police car, and driven away from Dina’s home. Away from Dina.
Sebastian tried to explain himself to the policeman driving, and his partner staring out the window. But they told that it would have been in his best interest if he simply didn’t speak.
“Shut your trap,” had been the eloquent manner in which the case was made.
When asked where they were taking him, their answer was accompanied several times with the word prison.
Sebastian Grimm did not like surprises. And this he could add to his list of reasons why.
Chapter 3
The Necromancer’s Incarceration
In prison, there are three kinds of people. First, the one who is found guilty of committing a crime in light of tangible evidence. Second, the one who is found guilty of a crime he did not commit, framed by an unknown evil doer whose cunning evades the attention of the police. And then finally, there are those like Sebastian Grimm, who wind up trapped behind bars due to awkward misunderstandings.
On the afternoon of the third, the Hillside Police Station housed precisely three of these exact types of people. One, an unkempt man clad in a dusty jacket arrested for sleeping on a public bench. Two, a man who would not cease to profess the fact that he did not murder his wife.
“I did not murder my wife!”
And three, a necromancer arrested by the police due to a profound misunderstanding.
“This is a profound misunderstanding!”
But it is as the saying goes; those locked behind the bars of judgment are presumed guilty before they are proven innocent.
Sebastian Grimm stood at the center of his holding cell, unwilling to have a seat on the stain-covered cushions, and wise enough not to lean against the grime-infested walls.
Worry clouded the necromancer’s mind. So much so in fact that he paid little attention to all else that was happening around him. He feared dearly for his life, his funeral home, his work, uncertain that he would ever return to any of them after today.
Funny, he thought, that in searching for a new direction, he had only come to jeopardize the one he had. And now he’d felt as though he’d taken it all for granted.
A policeman arrived bearing keys to the holding cell.
“Grimm,” he called.
Sebastian shook from his trance, looked up.
“That’s me.”
“You got a phone call.”
“I did?”
“Follow me.”
The policeman led the necromancer to the front desk, where sat an old, black rotary telephone. He picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“What the hell are you doing in prison?”
It was John King.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Never mind that. What I want to know is why the police found your voodoo equipment at the scene of a homicide.”
Sebastian stirred.
“Homicide?”
As far as the necromancer had been able to discern, Dina Malloy had been killed by a fallen book shelf. An accident. No reason or evidence to believe otherwise.
“A 911 call was made from that address before you showed up.”
“A call? From who?”
“Who do you think?”
“Dina. Dina Malloy.”
“Someone wanted her dead. And if you hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have had to spend all this time trying to convince the cops that you’re not a cold blooded murderer, but a mentally handicapped PI’s assistant.”
“You’re backing me up? Wow. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Shut up. The cops are letting you go. I made a deal with the family. The parents are willing to let you handle the funeral arrangements. And to top it off they’re hiring us to catch the killer. You work your magic and find out what the dead girl knows. Call me as soon as you find some answers.”
“Thanks,” said Sebastian.
The line disconnected. The necromancer’s appreciation failed to go through.
Chapter 4
The Necromancer’s Spell
Sebastian Grimm recovered the Black Grimoire of Necromantic Arts from a hidden box in his attic. He blew the dust from its leather-bound seal, and cleared away whatever specks of dirt remained. The pages were brown and frail, and every turn of a page was followed with that distinct, crumbling noise of old paper.
He searched the contents of the Grimoire until he found a different spell. One that the necromancer had only used once in his life, and one that he had sworn never to use ever again.
“The spell of Harkin.”
The Spell of Harkin*
* (As it is written in the Black Grimoire of Necromantic Arts)
EFFECT: Will raise any given deceased for an indefinite period of time. Subject’s mind and body will function for as long as it remains under the influence of the spell. Spell does not, however, revitalize body tissue. As a result, the longer the subject is kept undead, the more it will progressively rot over the course of time.
Recommended Time Limit: Inconclusive. Vitality of spell is unique to each individual, and is dependent on conditions of subject before spell is cast. Use proper judgment. Monitor subject at all times. Harkin is highly volatile. As a result, the full extent of its effects have been difficult to calculate. Further study is required. Expect an update in the next volume.
IMPORTANT: Spell is not to be considered a permanent solution against death. Prolonged use will have dire ramifications for subject’s physical and mental stability.
Once upon a time at the age of eight, Sebastian Grimm had once used the spell of Harkin to resurrect a dog. His name was Cutter, and he was a beloved member of the household Malloy. He did this so that young Dina and her family would not have to mourn the loss of their one and only pet.
Suffice to say that the spell had done its due. With the right materials, following the right procedure, Sebastian brought Cutter back to the home that had welcomed him so long ago. And with the reunion of man and dog came as many smiles as far and wide as the eye could see.
Happiness abounded. The family was united once again. Together, and in peace. That was, until the price of admission emerged.
Almost precisely four weeks after Cutter was brought back to life, things had begun to change in their dog’s behavior. First, that no matter how many times the dog was bathed, the mere smell of him would only get progressively worse. He reeked of a thing most foul, and dead. What’s more was that his functions had also slowed down considerably. His enthusiasm for playing fetch with young Dina had waned, and whenever he ran, it was in a manner both sluggish and uncoordinated. His capacity to think and eventually to act instinctually diminished until he spent the remainder of his days drooling on the floor, unable and unwilling to even raise his paw.
The spell had gone on for too long. And when Cutter could no longer feed himself, young Dina took it upon herself to plop spoonfuls of food in his mouth. The family worried and prayed until neither resolved the issue, and they had to put him back to sleep.
From the window directly overlooking the Malloys, Sebastian Grimm saw that for all his good intentions, all he had done was given them the pain of having to see their dog fade before their very eyes, and at the end bear the blood of his second death on their hands.
Today, Sebastian Grimm was going to resurrect Dina Malloy with the same spell that he’d used to summon her dog back to life. The spell of Moor was one in which when cast, the subject could only live for one hour, and their only functions involved being able to see, and being able to speak. Moreover, under the guidelines of the necromantic text, the spell of Moor could only be used to summon a life for a period of time between one second to a full hour. Once the spell's timer was up, the subject was to revert back to the way they were. Dead. Only forever.
These restrictions had proven useful for Sebastian when doing his bidding for the dead. But now the necromancer wanted else. He wanted a chance to speak with Dina. To acquaint himself the way he wished he had when he had the chance.
Sebastian understood that while he could not grant her the spell of Harkin for long, he needed more than the restrictions of Moor would allow. And it was with that that Sebastian took a deep breath, performed the ritual of Harkin, and brought Dina Malloy back to life.
She woke up, slowly, and with a groggy poise. Dina lifted her legs and sat straight, realizing that she was still wearing the same clothes as she had since morning. That was, assuming it was still the same day.
“How long have I been out?” she asked the stranger beside her. A face of whom she did not immediately recognize.
“A few hours,” the necromancer said. And Lord help him, he couldn’t help but smile.
“What’s so funny?” Dina asked, tilting her head as though overcoming a ferocious headache.
Sebastian shook his head.
“Nothing. It’s just really good to see you after all this time.”
Dina stared at the strange man for a moment.
“I think I recognize you. Wait a minute. Oh my God. Oh my God! Sebastian!”
Without sparing another second, Dina ran up to the necromancer and gave him a hug, slinging her arms around his shoulders. Her touch was cold, devoid of any trace of warmth. But Sebastian didn’t mind. His entire face blushed into a bright ball of pink, radiating more than enough heat to keep them snug.
Sebastian’s smile lit into a beacon of joy. He placed his hands gently on her back, and enjoyed the way she felt.
If ever there was a day that Sebastian Grimm could claim his most memorable, this would most certainly be it.
Chapter 5
The Necromancer’s Second Chance
“What do you mean I'm dead?”
There are many ways for reunions to begin. This, is perhaps the least common.
For much of the passing minutes since their reintroduction, Sebastian Grimm had had to explain to Dina Malloy the unfortunate facts of her undead condition. And as always, he did so rather incompetently. With the stuttering and the hesitance and the overall emptiness for words. Though now only more so, since explaining it to someone he once knew meant the added pressure of judgment. This, of course, did not help matters. And neither did the fact that he had to explain a spell he had never used before...save for today...and the day he resurrected Dina’s dog.
“Well...I...uh...I mean...you're dead.”
As with any given tale, it is always best to move forward to the events that matter the most, and forego those with little significance. This is why I am bringing us forward yet again, dear reader, past the sea of exposition into the land of what this chapter is truly about.
“I can't believe we're seeing each other after all this time,” Dina exclaimed. “I never thought we'd meet after high school.”
“It’s so great to see you again,” Sebastian said. “You look good.”
It was a complement not devoid of truth, but then again not something that Dina Malloy wanted to hear. For it made her believe just for a moment, that she was still alive. And the crushing realization that she was no longer made the reality even more difficult to bear.
“Is there anything you can do? You know, to make it so I don’t have to die again?”
Sebastian sighed hopelessly.
“I wish there was.” And this was true. “As it stands, I can only let you stay for a few hours before I have to undo the spell.”
“Why?”
And at this the necromancer squirmed, shook underneath his clothes, and knew in the end the only way to make her understand would be to mention...
“Do you remember Cutter?”
“Cutter? You mean my dog?”
“He was the first one I’d used the spell on. After he died that day from the snake bite.”
But Dina shook her head.
“He didn’t die. He was just sick for a few minutes. No. He got up and...”
And then it came to her.
“That was you?”
The necromancer nodded.
“So all that stuff that happened to him afterwards. The sickness, the drooling. The not being able to move. That was all you?
“Not that I have any desire to take credit for that. But yeah. I thought I could bring Cutter back the way he used to be. But I couldn’t.”
“So this whole time you’ve been able to bring dead things back to life? And you never told anyone?”
“No. I tell pretty much everyone I ever happen to bring back.”
“Do you bring dead people back often?”
“I do. Whenever I have to arrange a funeral, I have a few words with the dead and ask them what they want before they go. I think of it as closure for the people that need it the most.”
“That’s,” Dina said, and her eyes observed the basement littered with medical slabs and dead bodies preparing to be embalmed. “That’s so noble of you.”
Sebastian felt a tickle in his gut.
“Thanks,” and the necromancer chortled.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. It’s just that, for as long as I’ve been doing this, you’re the first one who’s ever given me a compliment.”
“I don’t believe that,” Dina said.
“It’s true. Here, I’ll show you.”
And with that Sebastian Grimm summoned from the dead one 68 year old Joseph Hunter. A frail old man lying beside the basement stairwell, naked save for the blue sheet of cloth draped over his body. Dina stood back and watched as Sebastian prepared the spell of Moor, and brought the dead man back to life.
“Where am I?” the man grumbled.
“In a funeral home,” Sebastian replied.
“Why?”
“Because you’re dead.”
“Dead? What do you mean I’m dead?”
“Dead as in not alive.”
“You mean dead as in still alive and talking?”
“The only reason we’re talking is because I can raise the dead.”
“What about her?”
“She’s dead too.”
“Hi,” waved Dina.
“Anyway, I brought you back because I wanted to know if you had any last wishes that you’d like to see carried out. Maybe something for your funeral.”
“I want to get out of here.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re dead.”
“Ah. I know what’s going on here. You’re trying to scam me out of my estate aren’t ya? You think because I’m old I’m stupid. Well you aren’t getting a dime from me you mangy con artists.”
“Is there anyone you would like to see in your funeral?” suggested the necromancer.
“Well, come to think of it I did always kind of want Dean Martin to sing at my funeral.”
“I’ll have some songs ready for the service.”
“Ah but that man could sing like no one else. In fact, I still remember the time when...”
The egg timer went off, cutting the old man midsentence.
“See? Not a word of thanks.”
“That was amazing,” said Dina.
“What was?”
“What you just did. For him.”
Sebastian’s cheeks gleamed red.
“You think so?”
“Of course. What you do here, it’s really incredible. I don’t know what I would have done if I could do what you could do. You know, raising the dead and all that. But I can’t think of any way to put it to better use. I’m impressed.”
And it was with that that the necromancer came to see his life from an all new perspective. He didn’t need a different path. In his search for something new, all he’d done was neglect the marvels of that which he already had. But now he knew better. And it was all thanks to Dina Malloy.
“Now how can I help you?”
Chapter 6
The Necromancer’s Friend
In the days when Dina Malloy was still alive, she’d served as an accountant for PJ Jorgen, a small Swedish business that manufactured socks. She was a valued employee of PJ Jorgen, and the various plaques she’d earned over the course of her prospective career proved this case. She was punctual, responsible, and organized at all times. Traits that granted her the greatest respect of her employers, and traits that unwittingly led to her untimely end.
For two days prior to her death, Dina Malloy had discovered an anomaly within the company’s financial records. Certain expense reports were gone from the company ledgers, and receipts had gone missing. As a matter of being organized, she scoured high and low for an explanation as to the missing money. She stepped into her boss’ office (her boss being none other than the owner of PJ Jorgen himself, Hans Jorgen) in order to inquire of the dilemma. But as a matter of punctuality, she arrived just in time to see the boss’ son, Madds Jorgen, rifling about his father’s desk. File folders on one hand, and financial records on another.
The short of the long was that Madds Jorgen had been embezzling money from his father’s company into a dummy account wired to his own back pocket. A recent endeavor, and one that had remained discreet until gambling debts and ill-placed investments forced him to up the monetary ante to his swindling.
This, Dina came to learn, because when pushed for the answers, Madds had no choice but to confess, and to hope that his explanation of things would gain her sympathy. Understanding that the truth was now at the hands of his father’s most beloved accountant, Madds Jorgen offered a proposition. He would share with her half his ill-gotten gains, and in turn Dina would look the other way. And here, perhaps most importantly of all, it was a matter of responsibility that she declined, and demanded that Madds tell the truth to his father.
In tears, Madds agreed. And in addition, he pleaded that Dina hold for only one day before informing the proper authorities. Out of the goodness of her heart, Dina agreed. A mistake that she would soon come to recognize as such. The next morning, as Dina was preparing to leave for work, a burglar broke into her home and had her killed by way of collapsing bookshelf.
The burglar wore a ski mask in order to hide his face. But Dina caught the eyes of her killer, and she recognized the man without a moment’s thought.
“It was Madds,” she said.
Sebastian leaned from his seat.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. Absolutely. I know it was him. I’d recognize him if I saw him anywhere. We have to tell the police immediately.”
But Sebastian shook his head fervently.
“We can’t do that.”
Puzzled, Dina questioned, “Why not?”
“Because we can’t give the police a confession from someone who’s already dead.”
“Oh. Then what?”
“I have a friend who investigates these kinds of things.”
“You do?”
“If I tell him that Jorgen is our guy, he’ll be able to find him. After that all we need is the evidence to put him away.”
“There are ledgers in my office,” Dina offered. “If I can get to them, then you’ll have everything you need. At least, it’ll prove that the records are inconsistent. That implies motive. And the rest practically writes itself.”
A capital idea at first mention. Though it did not require much in retrospection to see why this might not have been a wise idea after all.
“We can’t let anyone see you now that you’re dead.”
There was that, and then the fact that the necromancer needed her nearby to undo the spell of Harkin. Given her condition, the funeral home was the safest place for her to be. If anything were to happen and she was gone, then the spell of Harkin would destroy what was left of her body.
No. The necromancer could not allow himself another mistake.
“Absolutely not,” he said in as resolute a tone as he had ever come to muster.
“I’ll be discreet.”
“That doesn’t eliminate the risk.”
“I’m the only one who knows how to get the evidence, and where.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave.”
“Look, you’re doing this to help me. Let me help you help me.”
“You can do that by staying put.”
Upstairs, the telephone rang.
“Stay put,” he said, and ran up the stairs in time to catch the call.
“Hello?”
“Did you get anything from our dead girl?”
It was John King.
The necromancer supplied the details as he had them.
“Madds Jorgen you say? Well that doesn’t surprise me one bit.”
“Why not?”
“Because for a man who’s unemployed and estranged from his family, he’s been doing pretty well for himself. Or make that, too well. All I need to do now is look into his books, and we’ll get everything we need to take him down.”
“Dina says all the records are in her office.”
“Duly noted. I’ll go pay a visit to the PJ Jorgen HQ ASAP.”The detective dropped his phone long before the necromancer. And in the time he had before returning to Dina Malloy, he went up the attic and recovered his yearbook, thinking that they would pass the time reliving old memories. He took the stairs back down to the floor, and then down to the basement. And there he found that he would not in fact be reminiscing of the past, but cursing the present, as Dina Malloy was nowhere to be found.
Chapter 7
The Necromancer’s Runaway
Life is a journey of endless pursuits. Some simple. Some not. Some trivial. And some important enough to alter the very course of our lives. But for all the variety in which our dilemmas present themselves, the expeditions set before our path serve as reflections to that which we are, and that which we hold most dear.
Take for instance, that at the dark hour of seven in the evening, John King made his way to the US offices of Swedish sock company PJ Jorgen, in order that he may fulfill his role as private investigator, and in the grand scheme of things collect a handsome paycheck. It was also at this hour that Dina Malloy ventured into the offices of PJ Jorgen, in order that she may retrieve the evidence of her case, and in the grand scheme of things put away her murderer for life.
As for Sebastian Grimm, the necromancer hurried his way to the front desk of PJ Jorgen in order that he may find the corpse that had escaped his basement, and in the grand scheme of things make up for the many missed opportunities of kinship he had had with his childhood friend. He worried that if he didn't find her in time, then someone else would. Or worse, she would remain alive long after her time was up.
Sebastian walked to the woman in the front desk and asked her where he could find Dina's office.
“I'm a relative, you see. And I wanted to pick up her things before the funeral.”
“Dina must have had a really big family,” mused the front desk receptionist. “You're the third one today that's asked for her office.”
“Third?” Sebastian spat. Internally, he hoped that neither among the two were Dina Malloy herself.
“A tall man came by earlier. He said he was her elder brother. That is, a brother from another mother. Then there was a peculiar woman who had her entire face wrapped in a scarf. Said she was Dina's sister.”
Sebastian kept himself from mouthing Dina's name. There could no longer be any doubt that she'd made her way inside the office. And John King was somewhere inside as well. Not expecting either one to be in Dina's office, the necromancer predicted disaster if John King were to ever find out on his own that she was somewhere around and about. Not only would it put into risk the private investigator's private investigation, but the detective himself was deathly terrified of seeing corpses alive. If ever the two were to meet, the necromancer would most certainly never hear the end of it.
“Can you tell me where they are?”Sebastian asked.
“Two floors up, down the hall to your right. It should be the second to last door.”
“Thank you.”
And with that the necromancer took to the stairs, skipping as many steps as he could along the way. When he arrived, he noted that the entire floor was empty. There was no one there, and yet the lights were on. Rows and columns of cubicles and office desks remained of what had once been office spaces. And like anchovies or fresh servings of vegetables, they were left untouched.
Sebastian wasn’t surprised. It was after work hours after all. He imagined that for those observing regular terms of employment, they clocked in at nine, and out at five.
In the sea of problems that he had now to resolve, it was good to know that he wouldn’t have to worry about witnesses as well.
Sebastian followed the attendant’s directions until he found himself at the end of the hall. There he saw the back of a woman with a scarf draped over her head.
“Dina!” he called.
Dina turned around.
“Ssshh,” she said, index finger placed over her lips.
But the necromancer wouldn’t have any of it.
“What on Earth are you thinking showing up here?”
Dina shushed the necromancer again, making clear her intent not to listen.
“No, you have to listen to me.”
Dina shushed again.
“You don’t understand how important it is that you...”
Dina shushed again, though by now it was evident that her attempts were fruitless. She opened the door to the maintenance room beside them, and pulled him in. The room was dark. As Dina shut the door behind her, all trace of visibility shrunk to nil.
“What are we doing here?”
“I’ll explain it if you just keep quiet.”
She flickered on the light switch. And despite her attempt at installing silence, this did the complete opposite. For hiding in the same room as them was John King. And in the moment before they realized this, they flinched, they startled, and they screamed. John King’s was louder yet, because when he realized who his fellow trespassers were, he remembered that one of them was supposed to be dead.
“What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked.
“What is she doing here?”countered the private detective, as though his was the real question in the matter.
“Who are you?” Dina interjected.
“Who am I? I’m the one looking into whoever killed you.”
“What? Wait. So you know?”
“Get her out of here. And you better hope nobody caught her on the way over.”
“Nobody saw me,” she said. “And if they did, they didn’t recognize me.”
“I recognized you.”
“Exception rather than the rule.”
John King looked at the necromancer.
“I should kill you.”
This, he uttered in a manner of epiphany. As though he’d given birth to an ingenious idea.
“Perhaps later. For now I’d like to know why you two were waiting outside that office.”
“There’s someone in there,” Dina supplied. “He’s been rifling around my desk.”
“Who?”
John King backed, “Looked like a janitor or something. I was waiting here for the coast to clear so I could go in and get the books.”
“Maybe he’s gone,” said Dina, and then abruptly left the maintenance closet.
“Wait.”
Sebastian and John King followed until they reached the window to what was once the office of Dina Malloy.
“Coast is clear.”
The space inside was small but neat. Stacks of documents and file folders sat on her desk in rows of well-organized piles labeled on top by way of post-it notes. There was order in her work space. Every square inch of it, symmetrical and even.
Sebastian took the time to observe the photographs on her desk. One, taken several years back, had her wearing a robe and tassel. A few others were of her and her family. And then there was one with her old dog Cutter. The old white terrier smiling back at the necromancer through gaping tongue, as if to say that there were no hard feelings.
Dina shuffled about the cabinets behind her desk until she found what she was looking for.
“There.”
A thick, maroon red binder rife with balance sheets and ledgers.
“That’s everything?” asked John King, maintaining as safe a distance from the dead woman as he could within the cramped space.
“Just about.”
“Then be a doll and hand that over to my idiot colleague over there.”
“Hey don’t call him that.”
John King grimaced at the necromancer.
“I’ll take it,” he said, and Dina handed the evidence to Sebastian. “It’s time to get you back now.”
Dina understood. Although in spite of this, she sighed.
“I don’t want to.”
John King rolled his eyes.
“Your problem,” he said, his words directed straight to Sebastian. “You got her in here, you get her out.”
And with that the private investigator took his leave. And perhaps it was just as well. For Sebastian Grimm found himself at a loss for what to do. What to say to convince the girl that her life was done.
“I know this is hard for you. But you can’t stay like this. You know what happened to Cutter.”
“I do. But I don’t want to go. I can’t go. Not like this. Not now.”
“Dina, it’s the only option you have. You can’t end up like Cutter. You don’t want that.”
“I want to live longer. That’s all I want. My life was taken from me it isn’t fair.”
Of course, it wasn’t. But then again neither are the cards that most among us are dealt. Sebastian took pity on the girl, and wished more than anything else that there was another way.
But there was another way. One that he despised to consider, but it was an option nevertheless.
“I can let you stay until the first symptom comes up.”
“Will you?”
Clearly, Dina was more open to the idea than the necromancer himself. This astounded the necromancer, given all she had seen from Cutter. But who was he to judge? It was her life after all.
“How would this work?” Sebastian asked.
“Maybe I stay with you for a while? Until, you know.”
A strange suggestion for which the necromancer had no idea how to interpret his reaction. On the one hand, he feared to think of Dina ever having to suffer as dire an illness as did her pet dog. Especially during the final hours of her life. And yet, beyond that stark reality was a part of him that was interested. Hopeful even, by the notion of sharing his home with a friend as her.
“Maybe we can try,” replied Sebastian.
Dina smiled. Her lips and cheeks as long and spry as the moment of their first reunion. And after that, all doubts were washed from his mind.
The necromancer would keep his childhood friend. And together they would make the most out of what little time Dina had left. How long that would be, neither among them knew for certain. But as it is that life is but a journey of endless pursuits, perhaps for them it could be forever.
* * * * *
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mortimer Jackson is a self-published author living in the underbellies of suburban California, where as a novelist he writes in the hopes of one day joining the ranks of the overrated. His first children’s fantasy, The Land of Stories Book 1, has just been released exclusively for Amazon Kindle. For more information, visit themorningdread.weebly.com.